The Glitched Mage-Chapter 122: Raw Power

Riven's breath hitched as the world crumbled.

The battlefield dissolved into motes of dying light, and for a single heartbeat, there was silence—pure and total.

Then—

A surge.

His mana heart detonated with force from deep within his chest—not in destruction, but expansion. The three rings orbiting it—already vast, forged from abyssal will and fire-touched fury—shuddered as the fourth began to form.

Lines of fire carved through the space around his mana heart, searing a spiral path through the dark void of his inner self. Shadows bled from the edges of each mark, coiling and tightening with power.

The fourth ring was not smooth.

It was jagged. Wild. Formed from fracture and flame.

Where the first three had taken shape with control, this one erupted with violence—born of war, of death, of the thousand lives taken in the battlefield trial. Every scream, every burst of mana, every divine clash echoed in its forming.

It locked into place with a deep, resonating boom inside his soul—like a gate sealing shut behind him.

[[ Fourth Mana Circle Formed. ]]

[[ Mana Heart Capacity Increased. ]]

[[ Passive Trait Acquired: Abyssal Dominance — Presence causes passive mana suppression to lower-tier foes. Shadow affinity effects intensified. ]]

Riven's eyes snapped open.

—x—

The training chamber was silent save for the low, thrumming pulse of residual mana humming through the reinforced stone.

Krux and Damon both tensed the moment the runes flared on the walls—bright violet and burning crimson.

The doors held.

But something had changed.

A wave of pressure rolled outward from within, thick and dense, like the weight of a storm about to break. It wasn't uncontrolled—it was precise, focused—but it carried weight, ancient and commanding.

Inside the chamber, Riven slowly exhaled.

He rose to his feet, shadows swirling from his skin like smoke. His aura no longer flickered—it seethed. Fire curled beneath the surface of his veins, and his mana no longer simply existed within him.

It obeyed.

He extended a hand.

The shadows responded instantly—faster, smoother, sharper. One command, and they formed a spear of condensed darkness.

He snapped his fingers.

It shattered into mist.

A smirk tugged at the edge of his lips.

He turned, movements fluid, deliberate—the weight of his presence pressing outward with every step. He fastened his cloak and it billowed behind him, caught in the residual currents of raw mana still trembling through the air.

The chamber's reinforced doors, etched with sealing glyphs, shuddered.

Then clicked.

One by one, the locks disengaged—not by touch, groaning against the sheer force of Riven's power. Damon and Krux tensed instinctively, hands twitching toward their weapons.

They didn't need to draw.

The mana veil guarding the threshold dissolved before Riven like mist before sunrise—unraveling strand by strand, its light devoured by the gravity of the Fourth Circle still pulsing faintly within him.

He stepped through the threshold without pause and the room behind him seemed to exhale.

"Holy hells," Damon muttered. "You feel that, Krux?"

"I thought my bones were going to turn to ash," Krux whispered, wide-eyed.

Riven glanced at them both.

"I'm done."

His voice was calm. Firmer. Deeper.

And behind his eyes, something new burned.

"Good gods," Damon muttered, eyes wide. "This is just you at the Fourth Circle? How much power are you going to be throwing around when you hit the upper tiers?"

"I'm… a little terrified," Krux admitted, half-joking—but his voice wavered with genuine awe. He hadn't stopped staring at Riven, as though unsure whether to salute or back away slowly.

Riven exhaled, steam curling from his lips as he centered his mana. "I feel… different. It's raw. Wound tighter than before. Like there's fire just under my skin."

"That's how it gets," Damon nodded, his tone more sober now. "The higher you go, the more primal it feels. Power like that doesn't like to be caged."

Krux gave a sharp breath, then dropped to one knee with a fist to his chest. "Still," he said with a crooked grin, "congratulations, my king."

Damon followed, kneeling beside him. "To the Fourth Circle," he said. "Well earned."

Riven offered a nod of acknowledgment, though the fire beneath his skin refused to settle. His veins buzzed with mana like coiled lightning, and the edge of his control felt thinner than ever—but exhilaratingly so.

He let the silence stretch for a moment.

Then smiled.

"How about we test what I can do now?"

Damon's face split into a grin. "Now you're speaking my language." He cracked his knuckles, the sound echoing through the chamber like the prelude to war.

"Oh, yes!" Krux lit up like a child about to be unleashed. "I've been saving so many new moves for something like this!"

Riven's grin deepened, sharp and dangerous.

"Then let's see what this power can do."

—x—

The training grounds beyond the chamber stretched wide beneath the pale morning light—stone arenas surrounded by obsidian pillars and shadowforged statues, their carved eyes watching in eternal silence. The mist from earlier had burned off, revealing a crisp clarity to the air. Far above, ravens circled lazily.

Riven stepped into the open with Damon and Krux flanking him, the weight of his Fourth Circle still radiating from his form like heat from a forge. Undead knights standing post instinctively stepped back, weapons lowered, eyes wide with subtle reverence.

Damon rolled his shoulders and took a few paces away, his boots grinding into the stone as he formed a wide stance. "Alright, no holding back then. Just give me a heads-up if you plan to melt the earth beneath my feet."

"Can't promise anything," Riven said smoothly, dark fire flickering in his palm as a jagged trail of shadow curled around his wrist like a living serpent.

Krux was already bouncing on his heels, stretching out his arms. He cracked his neck once, then drew his short sword in a blur of movement. "If I get flattened in the first ten seconds, I want it on record that I died happy."

"No one's dying," Riven muttered. "But you might be limping."

A pulse of mana rolled out from him, silent and invisible—but both Damon and Krux felt it. The ground beneath their feet seemed to shudder slightly, as if acknowledging who stood at its center.

Riven raised his hand.

With a whisper of thought, the shadows around him surged forward—not as mist or smoke this time, but as coiled, muscular tendrils that obeyed his motion like extensions of his body. He swept his hand to the side, and they fanned out, wrapping around a pillar and crushing it into powder in a heartbeat.

"Okay, that was new," Damon said, brows lifting.

"I don't even know what that was," Krux said, practically vibrating with excitement.

"Focus," Riven warned, stepping into the sparring ring now etched with faint glowing lines. "This isn't about showing off. I need to feel how this new power holds in live combat."

Damon's grin returned. "Then let's give you something real."

He slammed a hand to the ground.

Stone erupted beneath him, reshaping itself in jagged plates of armor across his body, and thick spires burst upward to form a defensive wall. Dust swirled around him as the entire arena shifted under his command.

Krux blurred forward a heartbeat later, vanishing in a flicker of movement. When he reappeared, he was already mid-air, spinning low toward Riven with a streak of silver from his blade.

Shadow tendrils snapped up from the ground and caught Krux mid-spin, absorbing the blow and redirecting it harmlessly. Another tendril shot upward behind him and launched him backward—right into one of Damon's stone columns.

The impact cracked the stone. Krux groaned.

Riven raised a brow. "You rushed."

Krux laughed from the floor, rubbing the back of his head. "I regret nothing."

Damon launched into the fray now, boulders rising and orbiting him like jagged moons. With a grunt, he hurled two massive slabs of stone toward Riven.

Foll𝑜w current novℯls on ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm.

Riven raised a hand—and unmade them.

The boulders disintegrated mid-air, swallowed whole by the ring of shadows around him. He surged forward, faster than either had seen before—his movements fluid, every step rippling with heat and power. Fire coiled along the length of his arm as he drove a fist toward Damon's chest.

Damon blocked just in time with an armored forearm.

The impact sent him skidding back several meters, plowing trenches into the ground.

"Okay," Damon coughed, shaking the shock out of his arm. "I definitely felt that."

Krux leapt in again, blade dancing with wind-infused strikes now—his footwork a blur. Riven moved with him, not blocking, but redirecting every strike. He spun, stepped in close, and with a twist of his palm, a flare of abyssal fire erupted at Krux's feet.

The explosion tossed him skyward.

Riven vanished.

And reappeared above him.

Krux blinked—then saw the smirk.

"Oh come on—!"

The air exploded as Riven slammed him back to the arena floor with a hammering wave of shadow.

When the dust settled, Krux lay on his back, wheezing but grinning. "That… was amazing."

Damon chuckled, stepping in and offering a hand to pull him up. "You okay?"

Krux nodded, breathless. "I'm great. We have to do this again."

Riven let the fire and shadow fade from his hands. The pulse of his Fourth Circle still hummed beneath his skin—eager, unspent—but satisfied.

He looked down at his hands, flexed them once.

"I have control," he murmured. "But only barely."

Damon grinned. "Then I say we keep pushing. Because if this is just the start…"

Krux clapped him on the back. "The world isn't ready for what comes next."

Riven's smile returned, slow and cold.

"No," he said. "It's not."